Take Me Apart
by Skalidra
Summary: When Dick faked his death so he could take down Spyral, he left behind his boyfriend, Jason. Now, coming back almost a year later, he finds out that Jason already knew he was alive, and that Jason took all of it a lot worse than he thought possible. - Also contains Jason/Midnighter (there's no category for him).
1. Chapter 1

Alright, so this is a prompt from crumpeting over on Tumblr, asking for Jason/Dick, and prompt 29: "I thought you were dead." (I agree; it is indeed too obvious to pass up.) So, I'm not sure what you were expecting but, I'm pretty sure this wasn't it? XD I honestly don't know how Midnighter snuck in there, but it just sort of happened and now I kind of want to write a total PWP second chapter, or maybe even make this a legitimate love story? I don't even emknow/em. Anyway, it's a little weird but I hope you enjoy anyway!

 **Warnings** for: Not really character death, painful break up, and rough but consensual foreplay.

* * *

It feels like old times to be pushing Jason's window open, crawling through into the dark apartment that was always so neat it was hard to believe that it belonged to someone as outwardly rough as Jason. He was always doing that; ripping apart my expectations at the seams because who you see at a first glance has nothing to do with who he is deeper down.

No one looking at Jason would believe that he keeps his safehouses carefully neat, that he's a hell of a cook, that if he's not working he'll be watching classic romantic movies or reading even more classic literature. No one would believe that Jason is one of the softest, kindest people I've ever had the joy to get close to, even if he gripes and grumbles when he gets caught at it.

I close the window behind me, staying quiet on my feet as I slip through the empty bedroom and out into the rest of the apartment. There's a faint light coming from the kitchen, and I follow it to find the light above the stove on, and Jason leaning against the counter next to it. There's a bottle to his right that I recognize as whiskey, and he's dressed up in his Red Hood gear minus the domino mask or helmet. Everything about his posture says defensive and shut down, and his gaze flicks up to me when I slip through the door and stays there. He's silent, though his jaw tightens a bit and he reaches for the bottle. I'm half convinced he's going to throw it at me, but he just twists the cap off and takes a swig from it instead.

It's probably the most friendly 'welcome back from the dead' greeting I've had tonight, honestly. That's saying something.

He sets the bottle down again, stares at it for a second, and then looks back at me. "Say what you came to say," is what he splits the silence with, voice low and rough and everything that I know means he's angry and upset all at once.

There are a thousand things I could say — apologies, confessions, explanations, and things that couldn't be called anything but 'begging' — but what I settle on is, "I missed you, little wing." I let that sit in the air for a moment before I continue. "I can explain all of it, if you'll let me. I wouldn't have done any of this without good reason, you know I wouldn't."

"You mean pretending to be dead?" Jason asks, and his arms cross over his chest as he holds my gaze. It's not as… Well, not as _furious_ as I was expecting, honestly.

It hurt to leave Jason behind, to not _tell_ him, but I trusted that the family would get him through it. Maybe Jason didn't take it as badly as I expected, or maybe the warning that Barbara sent out the moment I contacted her gave him time to calm down some. That doesn't seem all that likely; I know Jason _clings_ to his anger, especially when people really deserve it. I deserve it for what I put him through.

"Yeah," I agree, shifting my weight a bit. "Jason—"

"I knew."

I freeze up for a moment. "I… What?"

His mouth curls into a small snarl, and he gives a snort that sounds bitter and absolutely humorless. "Does that ruin your coming home speech, _Agent 37?_ Is it harder to pretend this was all for some famed grand attempt to save the world when someone calls you on that total _bullshit?_ " The bark of laughter is nothing but anger and _pain_ , but I'm frozen still. "Here are the facts from where I'm standing, golden boy. You _left_ me, and you let me think you were _dead_ when a single text or sentence could have clued me in and saved me from all that pain. You sacrificed your whole life, _everything_ we had, for the sake of some goddamn mission. You know, for not wanting to be Bruce you can be _just_ like him when it suits you, Dickie."

I swallow, wincing and then accepting the pain. I deserve that too. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Sorry's not good enough," Jason immediately counters, eyes narrowing. " _Me_ , Dick. You let _me_ think you were dead. Me of _all_ fucking people. Did it not connect in your head that losing my _fucking_ partner, the person I _loved_ , might _fuck_ me up? If you wanted to dump me you could have just fucking said so."

My breath catches, and then I jerk forward a step as I gasp, "No! _God_ , Jason, _no!_ I never wanted to hurt you; I never wanted to _leave_ you. Please don't believe that. You know you've _always_ been enough for me, little wing. I don't want us to be over and I never did. I swear."

The grin he gives is savage, even as he lets loose another one of those barks of laughter. "All evidence to the contrary cause you know what, Dick? _This_ doesn't look like love to me. You don't _abandon_ the people you love, and you _damn_ well don't come back expecting forgiveness afterwards. I honestly can't fucking decide if you thought that the shock and the relief at seeing you alive would have been enough to smooth over the fact that you're a liar. You're such a manipulative _bastard_ you probably planned that part out, huh?"

My heart feels like it's shrinking in my ribcage, like I can barely _breathe_ . "How did you know?" is all I manage.

Jason's grin morphs into a snarl that's just as savage, and he jerks up and away from the counter as his arms fall to his sides. "I _thought you were dead!_ " he shouts. "Do you have any fucking _idea_ what that did to me, Dick?! I came _so_ close to going totally fucking _nuts_ all over again! I almost _snapped!_ " He drags in a sharp breath through his teeth, hands clenching into fists as his voice lowers. "I decided that I couldn't survive without you, that the world _needed_ you in it because you've always been so fucking central to _so_ many lives, and _so_ good. Good fucking thing I knew how to bring you back, hm?"

"No," I whisper, already knowing where the story is going.

"I was ready to walk back into the fucking Pit with you in my arms and deal with whatever happened to both of us, Dick. I was going to damn myself all over again to bring you back to the world, but then I got to your grave and here's the fun fact you already know. It was _empty_ ." He gives a laugh that digs at me so deeply it feels like I'm getting dragged over broken glass. "Just detective work after that, and there was the ugly truth. You'd just left me behind without a word, without the fucking _courtesy_ to let me know you were going to tear my goddamn heart out. Some _hero_ you are, Dickie."

"Spyral—" I start, helplessly, and Jason snarls and cuts me off.

"I don't _care_ , Dick. I don't give one single _fuck_ about what evil organization you had to stop this time, or how important the _mission_ was. God, I don't even fucking care that you left me behind!" He takes in a slow, deep breath, visibly restraining himself, and then spits, "What I _care_ about, is that you couldn't take five goddamn seconds out of your new life to send me a text and tell me you weren't dead. I _care_ that I had to find out by digging up your fucking grave. I _care_ that apparently you either didn't think about the fact that you dying would tear me apart, or it didn't matter enough to make you stop."

He breathes out, leaning back against the counter again and closing his hands over the edge. He's gripping it tight enough that his knuckles are white, and for the first time his gaze is lowered down to the floor between us. "The fact is," he starts, much quieter, "that the mission mattered more to you than I did. And the fact is that it always will."

I jerk another step forward, gasp a breath into my burning lungs to answer, and—

"Don't," Jason whispers. "I can't do this, Dick, not anymore. I spent most of a year coming to terms with all of this, and even if it was something I could forgive, I can't trust you not to do it again. I can't survive it again." He's utterly still, and he looks up again to meet my gaze. It's just pain in his eyes now, almost all the anger is gone. "Let me be clear, Dick. I don't want you in my life anymore. I don't want to see you or talk to you ever again after tonight. I'll work with you if I have to, but don't ever expect anything else from me again. You can't fix this; don't try." His mouth curls into something strained, something tight and bitter as he remarks, "You were pretending to be dead; keep pretending. Be a ghost, and stay out of my life."

I can feel the tears slipping out of my eyes, but I manage to drag a shaky breath in to speak. "Alright," I whisper. "That's… That's your right; I deserve it. I…" I resist raising my hand to wipe the tears away, struggling to find my words. "What are you going to do?"

Jason watches me for a moment, and then his shoulders lift in a small shrug. "Tonight, I'm going to get really fucking drunk and pass out. Seems like the right thing to do. Tomorrow, I'm going to pack this place up and get out of Gotham. Permanently." Another snort. "Then, I think I'll find someone tall and pretty to fuck me rough and hard enough that I stop remembering what your smile looks like."

My heart _seizes_ , and I have to close my eyes and bite my tongue to not just sink down onto Jason's floor and break apart. Then I find an answer, and I have to _rip_ my heart open to force it out of my throat but I manage. Barely. "Midnighter. I… Go to Midnighter. He plays rough, but he's a good guy. He'll make sure you're— He'll give you what you want."

Jason nods, and then tilts his head towards the door behind me. He doesn't have to say anything for me to understand.

"I'm sorry," I whisper one more time, before I turn to leave.

* * *

"M, want another?"

I give a small grin, tilting my head and considering for just a fraction of a second. It's not like the alcohol's actually going to do anything to me, and he knows that, but the taste's nice enough and it's fun to just relax. Been a bit since I've had the opportunity to not be doing anything. It's a nice change of pace from getting stabbed by my Ex and getting taunted with the past I can't remember at every turn. It did make me just a bit more paranoid, true, but I think I'm starting to ignore that.

"Sure," I answer easily, throwing back the last of what's in my glass. Ice included, because the _crunch_ of it between my teeth is a nice little added sensation. I hear the footstep behind me, shift the glass to catch the reflection, and _don't_ turn around and deck the guy sliding onto the stool next to me.

"M, huh?" Blue eyes with an edge of green too sharp to be natural catch my gaze as I look over, and I don't even mind the appraising flick down my side. "You must be Midnighter."

I set my glass down, turning half a smirk on the kid. I don't need the red symbol splashed over his armor or the leather jacket to know who he is; he's just one more name and profile stored away in my head. "Guess that from the coat or the letter, Red Hood?" I ask with more than a little sarcasm, as the computer in my mind whirls away.

Heroes don't track me down too often. Usually it's a job or some kind of team offer, but sometimes they take it upon themselves to drop warnings about how I need to 'mend my ways' or they'll come after me next. This kid's not one of them though, there's nothing aggressive in his posture and it would be pretty damn hypocritical of the Red Hood to lecture me about killing anyway. I kinda admire the kid, honestly. Takes some serious strength to survive a dunk in the Lazarus Pit without going crazy, from what I hear. Grayson talked about him quite a bit; fool was head over heels in love, that's for sure. I wonder if this kid cares about him the same way.

"Some of both," the kid answers, with just as much sarcasm. "You look about as _civilian_ as I do right now."

The bartender drops my glass in front of me, I tilt my head in thanks, and then turns to the kid. "You want anything?" he asks, barely even blinking an eye at the fact that his vigilante hero crowd has just doubled from one to two.

The kid shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good."

Flat out lie, that one. He's hiding it pretty well, but the kid's in a lot of pain of the emotional variety. Easy to recognize if you happen to have a supercomputer in your head and enhanced senses. He might appreciate a bit more privacy than bringing up whatever he came to talk about right at the bar. I could take him to a more sheltered table, but I don't have to. Bartender's got a bit more practical experience than that, and he's already moving out of earshot to check up on other customers. We're far enough away from everyone else to not be heard as long as neither of us is too loud.

He glances around, confirming that for himself, before leaning against the bar and mostly facing me. "I'm going to be really fucking blunt here. I'm in the market for some rough, exhausting, no-strings-attached sex with someone good enough to overpower me for real. I heard you were the guy to ask about it. You interested?"

Everything about his expression says he's serious, but that pain I saw makes me ask, "Bad break up?"

He goes rigid for half a second, before something bitter slides into his eyes. "Basically, yeah. Saw it coming a long way off; didn't matter much when it came down to it. In the mood to forget a lot of things, and I haven't had good sex in fucking _months_ . Could use some."

I watch the kid for another second, reading everything I can off of him — fifty-fifty chance he breaks down in tears at some point, from what I can see — before I give another small smirk. "Well, as it turns out, my last boyfriend was actually a villain that specifically created everything about himself to appeal to me, strung me along for months, and then tried to kill me. I could stand to forget a fair amount of stuff too. Let's go, kid."

He snorts, and then he's reaching for my glass and pulling it out from in front of me. I watch with amusement as he tilts it back and downs the whiskey in one long swallow, then sets the glass down and flicks it back towards me. It slides to a stop pretty much right where it originally was. I raise an eyebrow, but don't call him out on the theft of my drink. Kid could probably use it more than me anyway.

"You call me that while we're fucking and I'm going to have to punch you," he tells me with a flash of teeth, as he gets to his feet. "Lead the way."

I follow him up, and keep an eye on him as I slip my hands inside my pockets. "Door," I order, and he jumps a bit as the portal springs to life about two feet to his right. He relaxes again in a moment, which is better than a lot of other people have done when I pop open portals right next to them.

"No _wonder_ you're hard to track," he mutters, obviously studying the portal before his gaze drops to my hands, looking for how I work it.

I smirk, and walk through before he can figure out anything concrete. Best not to give the kid ideas. "Been tracking me?" I throw over my shoulder, glancing back to make sure he's through the portal before I close it behind us. He's making a bit of a face, but hasn't reached up to cover his stomach. Kid's got spine, definitely; doors like mine aren't pleasant to go through unless you're used to it.

"For a couple days," he answers, spinning on one heel to take in everything he can see of my apartment. I dropped us in the living room. "You jump around a fair bit; sightings are all over the place."

"Good to know." I shrug out of my coat, tossing it over my couch. "So who pointed you my way? Your little group, only person I've been in contact with anytime recently would be Grayson." My hearing lets me pick up the sharp spike of his heart, and the way his breath catches. So I turn around, and catch the look on his face before his expression closes off. "Ah. _That_ would be the break up. Sorry to hear it, kid, Grayson's always seemed like a good guy."

Anger, but mostly it's just pain and a sharp edge of bitterness. "Dick's a good _fuck_ ," Jason corrects, his eyes a little narrowed. "He's not a good partner."

Definitely a story there that I don't know, but, "He loved you. You know that right?"

"Doesn't matter," the kid snaps, and then he shoves out a breath and shakes his head. "What it comes down to is that he'll sacrifice anything for the sake of the mission, and it's damn well never going to be me again."

"Fair enough," I agree, as I lean against the back of the couch. "Look, kid, I appreciate the honesty so let me ask you something. You _sure_ this is what you want? Cause I'm reading about a sixty/forty chance"—odds have gone up since I mentioned Grayson—"that you end up in tears. Not a criticism, just saying that's what my computer's telling me. You want sex then I'm good for it, and I'll make sure you come out the other side alright, but are you sure?"

Jason studies me, and I let him. Most people don't make their minds up as quickly as I do. I can read the internal struggle, and then that slight give of surrender as his breath comes out a little more forced and his gaze falls to the floor. "I want to forget," he says softly, "and I don't know any other way. You got a better idea?"

"I might." I push off the back of the couch, meeting and holding his gaze when it rises back up to me. "I've got some people I was going to track down tomorrow morning. Stay the night, have a few drinks, spar a couple rounds with me. You'll lose, but it should help work out some of that anger." I offer him a crooked smirk. "I'll even let you hit me a couple times. Tomorrow, come on that job with me; I like having eye candy around while I work. You still want the sex after that, you got it. As long, hard, and as many times as you want. Sound like a deal, kid?"

The kid watches me for another second, and then breathes out an aggravated sigh. "Yeah, alright. I reserve the right to change my mind at any point though."

I snort, tilting my head back towards the couch. Jason takes my cue, circling around the edge of it, and I follow just a step behind him. "Trust me, kid. If you decide you want me to fuck you tonight after all, I'll take you up on it. I like my simple pleasures." He turns around, and I draw up short as he faces me. There's challenge in his eyes, and I speak before he can get the words out of his mouth. "I know you're not just giving it up, kid. I know you'll fight me every step of the way and that you _want_ me to beat you." I take half a step closer, and he might be about an inch taller than me but I'm bigger and wider. "I also know you'll end up bruised, and bloody, and calling me _sir_ by the end of the night."

Jason swallows, and yeah, I can read the bursts of nervousness and arousal all mixed into one. "Sounds like a hell of a night; I've never called _anyone_ 'sir' while in a bed, Midnighter."

I smirk. "Maybe we could do it on the floor then; keep up your _streak_ ." His eyes flicker, and I let the smirk go and reach forward to gently push against his chest. He rocks back on his heels, but doesn't retaliate. "Come on, kid. Sit down; I'll grab you a drink and be right back. Whiskey your preference, or you just like stealing other people's drinks?"

"Some of column A, some of column B. I want it to burn."

"Uh-huh." I believe the kid wants it to hurt, but I don't think that's actually his preference of drink. "I'm not letting you punish yourself with the burn of alcohol, kid. What do you really want?"

His mouth curls into a small smirk, and he snorts. "No point in lying to someone with a supercomputer in their head, huh? Whatever you've got is fine; spent some time in Russia so I've got a taste for vodka. Straight's fine, mixed is better."

"You got it." I turn to head for the kitchen half of my living room, running through what I've got in there in my head. "Russia, huh? What were you doing there?"

I can hear the slight creak of the couch's springs as he sits down. "Training; I was a little over seventeen and picked up with a pretty good instructor. Bomb-making expert. Spent quite a bit of time there, but the asshole turned out to be part of some extremist group of bastards. I put him and them down before they could finish their plan. Did that to a lot of the people that trained me; turns out most of the deadly people in the world are pieces of shit too. Go figure."

"Sounds like you've seen some nasty parts of the world," I comment, as I grab him a cup and throw some vodka in it. Bit of ice, and some random coffee liquor that I think Matt might have left here before he tried to kill me. Fun times.

"Hah. Russia's a piece of cake compared to Gotham. Somehow all the shit of the world tends to end up there. Nothing really compares to waking up in your own grave though, you know?"

I head back, setting the drink in front of the kid and sitting down next to him. "Can't say I do." I stretch my arm out behind him, and Jason picks up the drink and leans back. His neck presses back against my arm, and I wrap my arm down along the outside of his far shoulder. "I heard you ended up in the Lazarus Pit too."

"Definitely don't recommend that," the kid mutters. "You know, I—" He cuts off, and then takes a deliberately large swallow of the drink I made him. I gave him a large glass; figured that was easier than refilling it.

I give his shoulders a squeeze, and relax back into the couch. "Whatever you want to say, go ahead. I hear I'm a damn good listener, and I haven't got any reason to defend anyone you want to talk shit about."

He takes another drink, and then shakes his head. There's quiet for a long few moments, and then he breathes, "I thought he was dead. He _let_ me think he'd died even though… I was ready to dig him up and dump him in the pit too. He would have come out _so_ much better than me. I would have been there to hold him through it, to teach him how to control it, and everyone would have been there to support him. That makes all the difference, I _know_ it does. Turns out he was just a lying _bastard_ ."

I watch him for a second, spinning possibilities and conversations in my head before I answer, "Yeah, I agree. Sounds like a pretty shitty thing to do to anyone, but especially people you say you care about."

He cracks a smirk, glancing over at me. "Perfect boy Dick Grayson doesn't look so perfect anymore, does he?"

I shrug, mirroring his smirk. "Never really my type. He's hot as hell, but a little too goody two shoes for my tastes. Gets his panties all in a twist when I take out the trash."

The kid barks out a laugh. "I know the feeling. He's pretty damn good in bed, always has been, and it's— It's one hell of a thing, having all that energy and attention focused on you. But then the job comes back around, and you realize that it really doesn't matter how much he says he cares. He'd never put his own happiness above what needs to be done, and that includes his relationships." He looks down at the drink, turns it between his fingers. "I _won't_ be collateral. Not again."

"That's fair," I repeat. "Still, sorry it happened, kid. I get what it's like to love and lose."

"Talking about the Ex that tried to murder you?" he asks, after another drink.

I grip his far shoulder a little tighter. "Well, that sucked, but no. I had a husband, the first man I ever loved. His name was Apollo, he was practically a god and he was fire and light and _everything_ that I wanted. But what I was made into has its drawbacks. I don't remember who I was before, or any of it, and when he found out he was pretty pissed. I could see how the fight ended, so I walked out before it had time to start. It was better that way."

Jason shifts a bit closer to me, tilting himself into my side. "Sounds like a pretty shit situation."

I look over, feeling his weight as it presses against my side. "So does yours. Drink to that?"

"You don't have a drink," he points out, but swallows some of his anyway. "Let me guess, enhanced metabolism like Flash? Alcohol doesn't affect you?"

"Cost prohibitive to get to enough that it would." I pull Jason a little farther in against my side, raising my hand off his shoulder to slide it through his hair. He grumbles a bit, but doesn't shrug me off. "Still tastes good though, and most people don't know about that so it's fun to fool them. I've won a lot of money that way."

A sharp laugh escapes the kid, and I catch the edge of a grin as he takes another sip. Smaller this time. "Isn't playing pool kind of an asshole thing to do? Don't you win with one shot?"

"Sometimes it takes me two." He gives another snort of laughter, and I can feel him relaxing a bit. "You know, not sure if this makes things better or not, but you're pretty damn hot yourself. Different way, but you could still give him a damn good running for hottest batkid."

"Not sure? Thought that computer of yours meant you were _always_ sure." He drains the last of the drink, and sets the glass down on the small table to the left side of the couch.

"Almost always," I correct, ruffling his hair.

He turns on me pretty fast, twisting away from my touch and swinging his weight around to face me. I don't see violence in it though, so I let him set his knee between mine and push me back against the couch with one hard hand in the center of my chest. I take a glance along his frame, grinning up at him as I let him hold me down. He smirks back, and there's definitely more than a little bit of desire in what I can read off of him. Challenge too. It's kind of a heady mix. Grayson would have been a damn good lay, but I don't think he'd have the same kind of fight as Jason's showing. I can appreciate a little fight; or more than a little.

"I'm not a kid," he says, in a voice low enough that it rumbles out of his chest like a growl. "You want me to prove that?"

I raise my right hand, touching the knee between mine and then sliding my fingers a bit up his thigh. "That's your call," I remind him. "You decide what you want?" The chances are good — about a seventy/thirty split — that he has, but I still want to offer him the choice. Even if I know someone's going to choose a certain path, a lot of people don't appreciate me moving things ahead without giving them the chance to make that decision themselves.

He shifts forwards a bit, presses me back a little harder, and then murmurs, "Yeah, I think I did. We fuck tonight, do I still have an invitation to go on your job tomorrow?" Before I can open my mouth, he's adding on, "Because I could probably still use a good fight."

I slide my hand a little farther up his thigh; _damn_ the kid's got nice legs, among other things. "You think I can't tire you out enough in one night?" I tease. "Sure, kid. You can still join me tomorrow."

He shoves me back, and his other hand comes up and grabs the back of my neck as he leans in. His mouth meets mine, and the blunt pressure of his teeth against my lip is a nice little edge of sensation. He snarls into the kiss, digging his nails into my neck as he pushes his leg up and into my hand. I move my hands to grip his hips, pulling him in closer and ignoring the faint feeling of resistance. He gives a small groan into my mouth, and I grin around it as I let him shove his tongue between my teeth. Let him think he's got the upper hand for the moment.

He pulls back after a minute, breathing just a little harder. Then he's shifting, letting go of my neck. I can see the coil of his body but I choose not to stop him from slamming his fist across my face. It hurts more than I expected — he's not me, but he's strong — and it splits my lower lip as well, snapping my head to the side.

"I told you I'd punch you," he growls, hand splaying out over my shoulder.

I laugh, tightening my grip on his hips and forcing him to rock down against me. Then I shove him off of me and the couch, and immediately follow him as he crashes back onto the floor. I shove his legs apart in that fraction of a second that he's stunned, and then as he reacts — starting to swing up at me — I intercept his fists and twist them off to the sides. He doesn't stand a chance against my enhanced strength, and he gasps as I pin his hands down to either side of his head before his legs tighten in against my sides with what would be bruising force on anybody else. Might still be, once I get my armor off.

He pulls against my grip, wrists twisting underneath my hands as he bares his teeth up at me. I don't even need my computer to read that this is exactly what he wants. So I lean in and kiss him, tightening my grip on his wrists until I know it's threatening to bruise, and he gives a groan and shudders. That's when I bring my teeth together sharply at the bottom right corner of his lips, breaking the skin between my teeth.

"Fuck!" he snaps, twisting away even as I pull back. He's bleeding now too, his lip split just like mine. He snarls up at me, and I grin down at him.

"You want me to stop, just say so, _kid_ ," He bucks up against me, twisting in a move I recognized the second I thought it might happen, and I laugh and rest my weight a little more firmly on top of him. He doesn't manage to move me, and I can tell by more than just the little flicker to his eyes that it seriously arouses him.

"I'm not a _kid_ ," he spits, tongue sliding out to swipe over the cut on his lip. It smears the blood across his skin, and I just barely resist leaning in to lick it off completely. He might not appreciate that.

I do rock myself down against him though, tightening my grip on his wrists a touch more. His teeth grit together, and I smirk.

" _Prove_ it."


	2. Chapter 2

Welcome back! Hahaha, so, this is porn. Porn with a bit of plot at the end, but porn. Enjoy!

 **Warnings** this chapter for: graphic sex, play-violence, sex of the hand, oral, and anal variety, and rimming.

* * *

" _Prove it."_

Jason's slight snarl widens to a crooked, _savage_ grin, and his legs loosen their grip on my waist to twist down between us instead. I know what he's going for, and I could stop him, but I hold back my instincts long enough to let him get one leg between our chests and shove. First with his knee, and then when I shift back his foot braces in the center of my chest and _flings_ me back. It's a powerful enough kick that I would have moved regardless, but I do him the courtesy of letting go of his wrists as well so I don't yank him with me.

He's rolling as soon as I've let go, on his knees by the time my back hits the couch, but then I let my speed come into play and get back to my feet roughly at the same time that he does. I meet his grin with my own, my computer planning every possible outcome of this fight in the span of the second it takes him to breathe out and slide one foot back a bit. I push the plans to the back of my mind, rolling my shoulders and letting the simple enjoyment of the fight linger as my main focus.

"Come on, kid," I breathe, and Jason takes my invitation.

He pushes off that back foot, leaping at me with all the grace and ferocity of a panther. It's pretty damn gorgeous, even if I do spin right around the drive of his foot towards my stomach and get myself behind him before he can react. I grab his leather jacket by both shoulders, yanking it back and down, and his back arches a touch as he gasps in surprise. It yanks his arms behind him, and I stay still for just long enough to make sure his jacket falls before I step away and get out of range.

He spins around to face me, the black armor beneath that jacket clinging close to his frame. In at the waist, a slight flare for the hips, and a whole lot more for his shoulders. Kid's definitely not built like his mentor, but those few extra inches of height make him thicker than Grayson. He's got two smaller guns tucked in at the small of his back, adding to the visible weaponry on him now that I've stripped that cover layer off. I don't do more than notice them though; they're not much of a threat to me and I know he's not going to draw one. Kid would be a whole lot more deadly than this in a real fight, and I'm kind of curious to know exactly how impressive he is when unleashed. Grayson's one hell of a fighter, and as far as I've heard Jason is his match.

"Lose something there?" I tease, letting myself stay still as I anticipate his reaction.

"Not _yet_ ," he snarls, and comes after me again. I duck under the swing of his arm, block the follow up leg aimed at my side with both hands, and then grab that leg before he can pull it away and yank him closer.

He staggers on his one foot, reeling at the loss of balance. Me grabbing his hips stops him from toppling over, and lets me pull him right up against me as he tries to rebalance. It's a win-win situation, really, especially when his still raised leg curls around my waist and his hands come down on my shoulders. I let him shove my coat back off of me, letting go of him just long enough to let it fall before grabbing either side of his waist.

He drags me into a hard kiss, hand squeezing almost painfully tight at the back of my neck as his other digs into the armor on top of my shoulder. There's the sharp copper tang of blood on my tongue, and when the kiss gets a little deeper I get a hint of the smooth aftertaste of that coffee liqueur I mixed his drink with too. I slide my hands to the two guns at the small of his back, making sure the safeties are on before I pull them out and toss them towards the couch. That leaves me free to wrap my right arm around his waist as I lower my other hand to the thigh he has pressed up against me.

He gives a quiet groan as my fingers dig into the lighter armor covering his thighs, and I smirk into the kiss as I unbuckle the strap holding the holster of his primary gun. "Won't need that," I breathe between us, tossing it to join the others on the couch. "Pretty sure you've only got the one gun that counts."

I slide my hand down to grab his crotch, just to emphasize, and he bucks forward even as he snaps his teeth towards my lips. "I left bad puns behind a _long_ time ago," he hisses. "I assume you've got a bed somewhere in this place?"

"In a hurry?" I ask, as I get my hand down far enough to get the sheath on his other thigh unbuckled as well. "Not much for foreplay?"

"I'll do all the goddamn foreplay you want later." His voice comes out rough and dark, and I grin in response, filing the answer away to use against him in the future. "How about you get all these layers off, M?"

I shove his leg down off of me, shrugging and pulling away from the grip on my neck in a flash so I can slide under his raised arm and to his back. He reacts fast, starts to turn as I'm circling him, but it's not fast enough to stop me from grabbing his arm and twisting it behind him. I get another gasp for that, before I wrap my free arm around his waist and slide my hand down to grab him again.

"You first," I challenge, holding his arm locked tight as I deal with the belt and buckle at his waist. I get his pants undone before he's driving one of his heels back towards my ankle, and I let go of him to shove him forward and stop the attack.

He staggers, but whips around as soon as he has his footing again. His eyes are bright and blazing, and his mouth is somewhere between a grin and a snarl. It looks like he's having the time of his life, and every cue of body language or facial twitch I can see backs that thought up. Kid really did need a good fight and fuck. Nothing like some good physical exertion to get memories of your Ex out of your head, after all.

Jason's mouth twitches into a real grin, and then he flicks his fingers at me in a beckoning motion. Guess that's fair enough; I've been making him do all of the attacking.

I leap forward without another moment's pause, coming at him head on. He meets my rush, grabbing my shoulder and side as he steps out of the way to twist and throw me. Which would work better if I didn't have the reflexes I do, and didn't grab his arm and drag him down with me. I let myself take the brunt of the impact with the floor, pulling him down on top of me, and then flip us before he's had time to recover. He ends up stomach down beneath me, one of my knees in the small of his back and one hand curled in his hair.

He grunts when I drag his head back into an arch, twisting beneath me until I shove my knee a little harder into his back. Then the breath rushes out of him with a heavy whoosh and he goes mostly limp. Biding his time, I already know that, but it's kinda nice to have the kid give in for just a moment.

I pull his head up a little bit more, arching him beneath me as I lower my other hand and grab the hidden zipper to his armor, right at the hollow of his throat. I can't get it down all that far, but I pull it as far down as I can get it — between his pectorals — before letting go. I ease my weight off of him, and instantaneously he surges up against me, legs bracing to try and throw me off. I flip him instead, slamming him down on his back hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

He gasps to get the air back, and I take the opportunity to pull that zipper all the way down and then sit back heavily onto his hips, admiring the splay of lightly tanned skin interrupted by the odd slash or curl of a scar. He's still for the moment, chest working in slow, even inhalations to try and get his breath back.

"You just going to look?" he mocks, sounding like he can barely get any air back in his lungs.

I grin down at him, stripping off my gloves and tossing them to the side. I definitely don't miss the fact that he swallows. "Always been more hands-on, personally." I lean forward a bit, sliding my palms up the center of his chest and exploring the curves of hard muscle. He gives a small groan when I push the armor back off his shoulders, tugging it behind him and forcing his arms to go with it. "It's a good view though."

Jason gives a breathless laugh and a sharp grin, his shoulders curling forward and his hips bucking up beneath me. "Then you better _do_ something before I take matters into my own hands."

I meet his grin, lowering a hand to cup his cheek and slide my thumb over his lips. He almost bites me; I can see it. "Don't tempt me, kid. I know you'd like to be tied down, but let's save that for another time, huh?"

His eyes widen just a touch, and then he pulls his arms forward — bringing the armor back onto his shoulders — and reaches for me. It's fast for a normal human, so I let him grab the back of my neck so he can curl up and drag me into a hard kiss. His teeth are sharp against my bottom lip, and I curl an arm around his back to support him so I can meet the kiss. There's a kind of desperation to the press of our mouths, and when he snarls into it I growl right back, letting the sound come out in a deep rumble from the bottom of my chest.

He jerks back an inch, and I read the fact that I've startled him before his eyes are narrowing, teeth baring and his hand tightening on the back of my neck. His nails are digging in hard enough that with just a _fraction_ more pressure he'd break the skin, and I grin at the sting of pain. When I pull him an inch closer, tilting my head as I crush him up against me, he swallows. When I give another growl, low and dark, his eyes flicker shut and he _shudders_.

"It's gonna be fucking glorious when I get you under me," I tell him, sliding my free hand up his side and enjoying the feel of the firm muscle under my fingers. "All the power in you, laid out for me to play like the most goddamn _gorgeous_ instrument."

Jason's breath catches, and then his mouth curls into something like a snarl. " _Earn_ it," he challenges, his hips rocking up underneath me.

I grin, holding his gaze. "Already did, kid. Just gotta finish playing it out."

His eyes brighten with a sharp spark of anger, and then his hand tightens that fraction more on my neck and rakes down the left side of it. I twitch away from the sharp fire of the scratches, feeling the blood beading in the wake of his nails, but it's almost nothing to me. I meet his gaze again, give him just a second to process my look and finish his movement, and then dig the nails of the hand on his back into his skin and drag them down to his waist. He yelps, arching and tossing his head back.

His arched throat makes such a tempting target that I don't resist, ducking my head down and dragging my teeth along the side of it. He gasps, and I can feel him arch a little further, feel his pulse jump a bit. His hands are digging into the armor over my shoulders, and I lightly trace my fingers back up along the length of the scratches I carved into him. He shudders again, gives a breathy moan that almost sounds like surrender.

"M," he gasps, and I scrape my teeth along his skin, over the jut of his Adam's apple and then up to the pulse point beneath his jaw.

"I can finish what you start," I murmur into his throat, tracing over the scratches again. "You fight me as long as you want to, kid; I can take _anything_ you can dish out. You take all of that feeling out on me, and I'll get right back up. _Do it_."

His hands squeeze my shoulders, bruising if my armor wasn't taking the brunt of the pressure, and then his body curls forward and he shoves me back. I go, twisting to the side so I don't hit the knees rising to meet my spine. I slide my far leg out as I fall, hooking it underneath his arm and using some of my strength to jerk him forward with it. It forces him to twist, slams his chest towards the ground, but he catches himself on his arms before the dizzying impact can happen. It's a lot of force to absorb, but he does it and keeps his gaze fixed on me the whole time.

I roll away and to my feet, and he's just a second behind me. I shoot him a sharp grin, and he meets it with wild eyes and a feral snarl on his lips. It's fucking _gorgeous_. He moves first, and I stay still as he circles me, keeping him in the corners of my eyes even as he passes behind me. I raise my hands to my armor, sliding the zipper down my chest. Jason, of course, takes the moment I pull my arms back to strip it off as the opening that it is.

He's on me in a second, but I move faster. My armor is still falling when he crashes into me, all that weight redirected to my advantage as I let his punch graze past my shoulder and hook my hand at his other side, pushing him along his path of momentum right past me. He's good; he twists the force around into bracing on one heel and spinning the other around at my temple, but I duck under that with plenty of time to spare. I lunge at him before he can resettle, and I can see him brace for an impact, hands loose for the best chance at deflecting or blocking any shot to his torso.

He definitely _isn't_ expecting me to grab the undone pants clinging to his hips and shove them down that critical few inches. His eyes widen, but his body is trapped in its course of action and he can't stop his leg from finishing its path to the floor. Where the stretch of his legs finally stops holding the fabric up and his pants fall right down onto his thighs and cut off any real ability for movement. He throws a punch at me, and I catch it and twist his wrist just enough to get him to grimace.

Grabbing his other wrist is easy, and then I push them to either side of his waist and open my hands just enough that my fingers hold his wrists down but I can stretch my fingers and dig them into his sides as well. It's enough of a grip that I can use my strength to lift him a few inches off the ground, and _that_ gets me a startled gasp. With his height, his weight, and his strength, I doubt that Jason is at all used to people picking him up without some considerable strain. I walk him back as he twists in my grip, his struggles dropping his pants all the way down to his ankles which really only makes things worse for him.

I drop him when I've got him right in front of the wall closest to the door to my bedroom, and then grab his shoulder and spin him to slam him against it chest first. He grunts at the impact, but a hand at the back of his neck keeps him there long enough for me to shove first one knee and then the other between his legs to spread them. Then I let go of his neck and grab the collar of his armor, dragging it halfway down his arms before I push up against his back, trapping his hands in the folds of the sleeves since he doesn't have the room to maneuver.

I hold his left shoulder against the wall with one hand and shove the other between him and the wall so I can slip it beneath the band of his black briefs and wrap my hand around his cock. He jerks against me, but I'm too strong and in too good of a position. He's not going _anywhere_ I don't want him to.

He's hard, and I explore the length of him in my hand as I give him a few testing strokes just to confirm that my computer was right about what he'll like. The strangled groan and the buck of his hips gives me that confirmation, so I keep up the hard grip and the slightly too-rough movement of my hand as I grind into his back. When his mouth parts in a nearly silent moan, I slide my hand from his shoulder to his hair and get a firm grip in it. His eyes are closed as I pull his head back, arching his throat again so I can hold his head back against my shoulder and get a better look at his face. I know what he's feeling, but the flush to his cheeks and the part to his mouth is intoxicating. It _really_ makes me want to push my tongue in there and give him a little preview of what I can do with that particular muscle, but I hold back.

Watching him, feeling him writhe against my pin and into my hand, torn between the pleasure and his instinct to fight, is better than most likely getting bitten. I can take his mouth like that later, when I've let him wear that spirit of his out a little bit and he's a little bit less like a wild animal in my hands.

I do lower my mouth to his neck though, finding a spot low near his collarbone and sinking my teeth down into it. It just takes a second and a practiced suck to make sure the bite bruises, and Jason bucks into my hand again and moans _much_ louder this time. I give his skin a parting nip before moving higher, grazing my teeth over the shell of his ear and then lightly tugging at the lobe of it. He _whines_ , and the sound makes me throb in my goddamn pants.

"You like being marked up?" I growl into his ear, even though I already know the answer. "Like having someone prove they can take you, Jason?" I can feel him twitch in the grasp of my hand, but he bites into his bottom lip to stay silent. I let it curve my mouth in a crooked grin. "Like being trapped? Being _held down?!_ "

He struggles again, but then his throat arches some more without the pull of my hand behind it, and he moans, " _Yes_. God, _yes!_ "

I press my grin to his throat, give a short laugh as I rock my hips against the back of him. "Not God," I correct. " _Sir_ ; remember?"

He tenses up for a moment, eyes opening and flicking wide. Then his mouth is curling in a snarl and he's arching, shoving back into me but not trying to get away, moving just to _feel_ my pin. "Don't stop," he demands, with an edge that almost makes it sound like a plea. " _Fuck!_ Just like that, _yes_. Don't— Don't you dare _stop_."

I suck another bruise into the side of his throat, and then pull back to growl, "Not a _chance_. Wanna feel you come apart, Jason." I twist my fingers over the head of his cock, wrench a shout from him that shoots straight to the pool of arousal in my gut, and give into the urge to rock my hips against his ass in time with the strokes of my hand. "I'm going to get you underneath me, kid. _Imagine_ it," I order him. "I can read every twitch of your body, every fluctuation in your voice, every goddamn _beat_ of your heart. You think _this_ is good? Imagine what I can do with my mouth, Jason. _Imagine_ the ecstasy I'm going to rip out of your bones later on, how _high_ I'm going to take you before I make you _shatter_."

He shakes, every muscle wound tight as he arches a little more. "I— God, _fuck_ , I— M!" He sounds desperate, and then he bucks forward into my hand and that's it. He's straining tight enough most people might fear he'd snap, crying out towards the ceiling as he comes across my hand and the inside of his underwear.

I gentle my touch, working him through the orgasm with a mind for the extra sensitivity. When he has nothing left to give I let go completely, carefully extracting my hand from inside his briefs as I let go of his hair. He's relaxing, tension bleeding out of him as his head rests back against my shoulder, his mouth open as he pants. I ease the pressure keeping him held to the wall, but he doesn't fight me. Not yet, anyway. I take the opportunity to ease the clinging armor down off of his arms, freeing them and letting it drop to the floor next to us.

I give him about a minute to catch his breath, and then — before he can recover _too_ much and remember he wants to fight — I roll his head off of my shoulder and spin him around. He gives a breathless grunt at the impact of his back against the wall, and his eyes flick open to find me. I rest my clean hand over the left side of his collarbone, keeping enough strength there that he can recognize it as a pin, before raising my other hand to my mouth. His breath stutters out as I lick his release from between my fingers, and I give him a wicked grin. I make sure the last swipe of my tongue is long and lingering, the tip of my middle finger lingering in my mouth for a moment before I pull it free with a small but audible pop.

He swallows.

I lean in, giving him enough time to stop me if he wants to, before I capture his mouth in a kiss. I keep it short, indulging my earlier desire for just a second as I slip my tongue between his teeth for a few shallow thrusts. I get a groan for that, before I pull away.

"You stay right there," I command, as I let my lips ghost over his jaw and then along his throat. "I'm not done with you yet, Jason. Not by _far_." He shudders, but doesn't verbally answer me.

He _does_ suck in a sharp breath when I sink to my knees in front of him, and I shift forward to press my mouth against the inside of his right thigh as my hands find the laces of his boots. I make short work of those, raising my hands to brace him as I pull them free one at a time. Then his socks, and then finally I work his pants off of his legs as well. The entire time I keep my mouth busy on his thighs, sucking small bruises into the sensitive skin on the inside and drinking in the little gasps and whines I'm getting in return. One of his hands finds purchase in my hair about midway through, and I reward that with a hum of approval and the lingering press of my mouth to a spot higher up that makes him squirm a little more than the rest.

When I've stripped him bare — apart from the briefs — I slide my hands up the outside of his thighs and slowly get back to my feet. I paint a trail of sucking kisses up his abdomen and chest as I do, and I can't help detouring to suck one of Jason's nipples in between my teeth. The hand in my hair squeezes tight, and he gives a strained curse even as he presses his chest forward into my mouth. I graze my teeth across the sensitive flesh, bite down _just_ hard enough to sting, and he gasps. I do so _love_ partners that can appreciate a bit of pain with their pleasure, and have the _stamina_ to keep up with me for a while.

I slide my hands across his thighs, and then let go of his nipple as I get solid grips on both of his thighs and drag his legs up off the ground. He sucks in a startled breath, and one arm wraps around my shoulders clearly automatically.

I grin, and nip at his throat before I whisper, "Not used to being carried, are you? Nice, huh?"

His arm tightens around my shoulders as I step away from the wall, walking both of us through the open door to my bedroom. "Definitely had some fantasies about Wonder Woman," he breathes, legs tightening around my waist. "Might've touched on that."

I laugh, laying him out on the bed before I kiss him for a second. Just long enough to fuck my tongue into his mouth, to get him to give a nearly imperceptible moan, before pulling back off the bed. "Can't say I see the appeal."

"Of strength?" Jason counters, watching me as I raise a leg onto the bed and work at getting my own boot off. "You seem to like a challenge."

I swap to the other leg. "Damn right I do. Of breasts or a vagina, Jason." I grin, push my boots aside with bare feet and lower a hand to grab my own cock through my armor. I roll my hips forward, following the line of his gaze to it and loving the flush that darkens his cheeks and spreads down his neck. "I'm kind of a _cock_ man; figured you'd noticed."

"Just cock?" he asks, gaze rising to meet mine and that _spark_ is back in it. He's got his fight back, and it's obvious in that look and in the way he pushes up on his elbows to be at a better angle than sprawled out on his back.

I unbuckle my pants, pushing them down and watching the flicker of his gaze back down, the flare of _hunger_ in his expression. "Well, I can get behind a good ass too," I tease, as I kick the pants off my ankles and then step forward. I slip onto the bed, watching him for any signs of attack as I crawl up and over his frame. "You bi?"

"Mostly," he confirms, relaxing onto his back but curling his hands tight around my arms instead. "Takes a _damn_ powerful person to really flip my switches; not as many powerful women as men. But Wonder Woman…" He laughs, head tilting back as his back arches a bit, hips rocking into air. "Wonder Woman could kick my ass any day and it'd be fucking _amazing_."

I stare at the line of his throat, the desire in his eyes when they open again. "You really get off on being beaten, don't you?"

He meets my gaze, then flashes a sharp smirk and surges up against me. I let him flip us, let him slam me onto my back and settle over my hips as he presses my upper arms into the bed. "I get off on the _fight_ ," he corrects, thumbs rubbing over my skin. "Finding someone good enough to win is just a nice bonus. Why, you jealous?"

I laugh louder this time. "Jealous? You're in my bed, aren't you? Besides, I think it'd be pretty damn hot to watch you get fucked by someone else, even if they aren't my gender of choice. Wonder Woman, huh?" I trace my fingers up his thighs; about as much range of motion as I can get without breaking his hold. "You think she'd tie you down with that lasso and ride you, or turn you over and peg you instead?" His breath catches hard in his chest, and I grin up at him with my best wicked edge. "I bet she's got the stamina to go for a _long_ time; how do you think it'd feel to get fucked by someone who just _doesn't stop?_ "

His fingers flex on my arms, head falling back as his body rolls in a graceful wave of motion, thighs tightening in on either side of my hips. My mind extrapolates, gives me the images of the most probable way Jason would look riding _me_ , and my breath catches just like his. I restrain myself, stroking my fingers along his thighs and just barely digging my nails into the skin. He moans, rocking again — the pressure of his ass down against my cock isn't far from heaven — and then rolling his head back down to look at me. His pupils are blown wide, eyes half-lidded and mouth parted in probably one of the more sinful looking expressions I've ever seen.

I've seen a _lot_ of shit.

"God," I murmur, holding that gaze, "anyone who gets to touch you is fucking _blessed_ , kid." I dig my nails into his thighs, and he gasps and arches in reaction, hands loosening their grips on my arms.

I roll us, ignoring the resistance of his body as I press him onto his back and spread his legs with the weight of my hips. His hands tighten on my arms again, but I don't let it stop me from lowering my mouth to his throat, rocking down against him and sliding my hands down to push underneath him and grab his ass. He bucks up against me, throat arching underneath the touch of my tongue and teeth. His hands find purchase against my back, clinging tight enough that it actually hurts a bit, and when I growl against his neck I get a breathless groan in answer.

"Every _inch_ of you is passion, isn't it?" My words come out a whisper. "Not even hard again but you still want _more_ , want me to bruise and bite and _ruin_ you till you can't even think straight. Want to be used and _worshipped_ all at once, with someone telling you how goddamn _gorgeous_ you are while they fuck you within an inch of your life."

His nails break skin, but he also shudders and arches up against me. " _Please_ ," he begs, that one word sounding cracked and just shy of really broken before his voice slides into a snarl. "You fucking _bastard_. You live up to all your goddamn talk or I swear I will _gut_ you." The threat makes me grin.

I hook my fingers over the back of his briefs and tug them down over his ass. "Not a problem," I reassure him, before I shrug his hands off of my back so I can pull away. "Haven't usually got guests," I explain, as I roll off the bed and head for my dresser. I should really just stick the lube next to my bed or something, but it hasn't come up much since Matt. My bad.

I snag it out of the drawer with all my socks, turning to head back to him right as he's kicking his briefs off his foot. I watch the long line of his leg, follow it up his thigh to the patch of curly black hair around his cock. He smirks, clearly knowing how good he looks, and I jar myself back into motion. He arches, makes a show of himself for a second, and then rolls over and to his knees on the edge of the bed to meet me. There's sharp challenge in his gaze, and I stop in front of him to let this play out. No way in _hell_ I'm redirecting this path.

His hands come up and brace on my thighs, and he flashes me a wicked, _dangerous_ grin as he leans forward and puts his mouth against my abdomen. His eyes close as he kisses his way across my skin with more than a bit of teeth behind the brush of his lips, and I swallow as that trail leads to him hooking his teeth over the top of my briefs. A brief flash of his eyes up at me — challenge and fire and _hunger_ — and then he's pulling them back and down to free my cock. He lets it rest at the base of my cock, then slowly gets grips on the fabric at first one side of my hips and then the other, pulling the briefs until they slip down my legs.

Only then does his mouth press against one side of my cock, tongue slipping out to flicker against my skin through the open part of his lips. I toss the lube down to the bed, threading one hand through his hair as I fight the desire to rock forward into that teasing flicker of hot, wet touch. His hands slide around to grip my ass as he presses a second kiss to the opposite side, and my grip in his hair tightens a little bit. That gets me a sharp grin, and he looks up at me as he speaks, breath rushing over my cock.

"You're not the _only_ one who knows how to use his mouth," he promises. "Think you've got a monopoly on blowing minds, Midnighter?"

I tug at his hair a bit, rock forward to brush the tip of my cock over his lips. "Prove me wrong, kid."

His teeth bare for a half a second, and then he's closing his eyes and leaning in. He _definitely_ knows what he's doing, in more than just the casual sense of people who sometimes give blowjobs. He's teasing, avoiding actually getting me in his mouth while he explores the length of my cock and _quickly_ figures out exactly where I'm most sensitive. He gives a blowjob with the kind of skill you usually only see in people who either do it for a living or _love_ it enough to have learned every tip and trick.

When his mouth finally slides over the tip of my cock I let a breath rush out of me and rock forward to chase the feeling, my head tilting back as my eyes close. Then his mouth is gone, leaving only a last lingering flick of his tongue to the nerve cluster right beneath the head. I groan in mixed frustration and respect, forcing myself not to grip his hair too hard.

" _Jesus_ , kid. Quit teasing."

"Then keep watching," he demands, with the edge of satisfaction to his tone. "You want my mouth? I get your _eyes_."

I laugh, but give him the attention he wants. I open my eyes again, looking down at him and meeting the blue-green fire of his gaze. I meet his smirk with my own, and _satisfaction_ is easy to read in his expression as he opens his mouth and slides the head of my cock back inside his mouth. My next breath comes sharp, and yeah, _watching_ the kid definitely makes this more maddening. Even more effective since he's looking up at me, studying me as his tongue curls and strokes in the most goddamn _obscene_ ways. It's like some of my best wet dreams come to life.

A gorgeous, dangerous, and spirited man who's both actually bigger than me and happens to be fucking phenomenal at giving head? Sign me the fuck up.

I can't help rocking forward again, and this time he lets me. His head tilts a bit, and his tongue flattens out like a goddamn welcome mat as my cock slides over it and deeper into his mouth. The little hum of approval he gives makes me rock again as I groan through my teeth, clenching my free hand for some kind of restraint. Then his hand on that side is sliding back from my ass, wrapping around my wrist and pulling my hand forward. I can feel the curve of his mouth around me in what I'm _sure_ is a grin as he sets my hand in his hair to join the other one, and then casually returns his hand to its grip on my ass.

"Yeah?" I ask, my voice coming out rough and more than a little breathless. "You sure about that, kid?"

He rolls his eyes, and then before my computer can fully calculate the tells I'm seeing his jaw relaxes and he slides himself forward onto my cock in one long push. I spit out a swear, clenching my hands in Jason's hair as my cock slides against the back of his throat and he doesn't even _twitch_. His tongue works in a little wave along the base of me, and I gasp and then moan when he pushes himself a few centimeters farther onto me and swallows, his throat contracting around the head of my cock in little ripples of motion.

Then he's pulling back, sliding off just as smoothly as he went on. I pull in a deeper breath, and then let it out in a laugh. "Point proven," I concede, flexing my hands in his hair. "Alright, message received."

I still give one shallow, rocking thrust into his mouth to test before I give in to what he's allowing me. I tighten my grip in his hair, using it to pull him onto my cock as I roll my hips forward. His eyes slip closed, and he relaxes into my grip in a way I am _not_ insane enough to see as surrender as I fuck his mouth. It's goddamn _amazing_ , and I recognize the incoming tells of my own orgasm before I'm ready for it, but right on time with my calculations. I growl down at him, yanking him onto my cock and he just _takes_ it; doesn't give even a hint of gagging and breathes in quick little bursts through his nose every chance he gets.

"Good to swallow?" I manage to force out. The tap of _yes_ to my ass startles another laugh out of me, and I bare my teeth into it and slide one faintly trembling hand back across his scalp. " _Fuck_ ," I mutter, "your mouth's goddamn _incredible_ , Jason. Like fucking _heaven_. Taking me so fucking smoothly, and that _tongue_ of yours — _fuck_. _Fuck!_ "

I jerk, my pace stalling out until instinct makes me shove as deep into his mouth as I can get. I give a wordless shout, and my vision blacks out for a second as I come and he just swallows it, the muscles of his throat massaging at my cock and drawing it out to almost painful lengths. I gasp, and then finally have to let go of his hair and push him away a little bit so I don't go completely mad.

The energy is draining _right_ out of me, but I give a long groan as Jason lets me slip from his mouth and then pointedly, smirking up at me, licks his lips. His hands slide forward to my hips, and I let him twist them and shove me down onto the bed. In fact, I go pretty gladly. He crawls up and over me, and it takes me a little longer than usual to notice that he's halfway to hard again. But it's a kiss he pulls me into, not anything more, and his body is fitting itself against my side as he lies down beside me before I can even think of pursuing that elusive 'more.'

I groan, and I can feel Jason smirk as he pulls back, head lowering to rest on my chest and one hand pressing flat to my stomach. It starts to explore my chest as I drag together enough concentration to mutter, "I think that was the best fucking blowjob I've ever gotten."

"That's a pretty normal response," Jason teases. "You're enhanced; shorter recovery time included?"

"Yeah," I answer, and then tilt my head back and shove out a breath. "Feels like you sucked out my goddamn brain too. You just… Give me a minute to get my mind back."

Jason snorts, and then his leg is sliding across my waist and he's pushing up to straddle me, hands bracing on my shoulders. "The great _Midnighter_ with his computer mind, brought down by _me?_ That'll be a fun story to tell."

I raise my hands to grip his hips, meeting his gaze with a lazy grin. "So long as you tell the rest of the story too, which is that I'm going to _wreck_ you as soon as I've recovered."

He leans down, pressing me into another short kiss before he slides back up. "Looking forward to it." He watches me for a second, and then tilts his head and comments, "I surprised you, didn't I? How's that work? Thought you knew everything already."

I give a breathless laugh. "I extrapolate and predict scenarios, I'm not a mind reader. Haven't studied you; I get basics and most-likely options based on my information, and I read tells and body language perfectly. Makes it look like I know everything, but if I haven't got a basis for what you're going to do I can't predict it. Fights are easiest; everybody moves the same."

There's a glint of calculation to Jason's eyes, and then his thumbs work into my shoulders as he says, "So the longer you're around someone, the better you can predict them." I nod, and he studies me for another moment before he comments, "That must get boring."

I tug at his hips, keeping my grin as I murmur, "Depends on if I like the predictions. By the way; tapping morse code against my ass to answer? Nice solution, kid."

He grins down at me, his hips rocking just a bit into my touch. "Figured you'd understand it, and I didn't really want to pull off."

"Appreciated." I glance down at his cock, check in with myself, and then squeeze his hips. "I've got my breath back, so you know." Before he can answer I'm shoving him off of me and to the side. I stretch to grab the lube with one hand as I push up, and still manage to get myself up and over Jason before he can recover from the sprawl. I twist him onto his stomach, getting one of his arms behind his back so I can pin him down as I straddle his hips.

He jerks back against me, but doesn't have the leverage to escape. "Is that right?" he gasps, free hand clenching in the sheets and pushing against my pressure.

I lean down, pressing my mouth to the back of his neck. "Definitely." I carefully keep enough pressure holding him down as I shift, pressing my left knee along the length of his back and over his wrist. It's not quite as secure a pin, but after I've rested my weight on it it's still enough to hold Jason down. Enhanced strength comes in handy; it leaves my hands free.

I grin down at him as he squirms, flicking the cap of the lube up sharply enough that there's no way he can miss the snap of the plastic. He jerks a bit at the sound, and then his fingers twist into the sheets a little more, tangling like he needs something to hold onto. I pour some of the lube onto the fingers of my right hand, then snap the cap back on and set the bottle aside. I rub the lube between my fingers, slicking my skin and warming it some before I lower my hand down between his legs. He twitches at the first touch of my fingers, but then his legs push against the bed and he arches a bit to press up into the touch.

I take my time tracing the outside of the ring of muscle, until he writhes under my pin and snarls at me in what's obviously a demand for more. I smirk, letting one finger dip just slightly in before withdrawing. "What's the magic word?" I taunt, letting my other hand come down and trace up the back of his neck.

He freezes up for a second, and then jerks and hisses, "Oh, you son of a _bitch_." I give a small laugh, and he makes a sound somewhere between frustration and desire. " _Sir_ , you goddamn _motherfucker_. It's _sir_."

"Told you." I push my finger into him, enjoy the little gasp he gives me, and then curl my other fingers in his hair and give it a solid tug. "But I can honestly say that I've _never_ fucked anybody's mother."

Jason snarls, and I rock the finger inside of him to let the lube get everywhere it needs to be. "Not _fair_."

"I hardly ever play _fair_ , kid. It's too much fun to do what people don't expect." I lean my weight down into him, hearing the soft huff of breath as I press most of the air out of his lungs. "I mean, you can still call me 'sir' for real if you want, but you don't strike me as liking that _kind_ of surrender. Not casually, anyway. Everybody's got their kinks though, right?"

He groans instead of answering, and I can feel the give of muscle beneath the press of my finger. So I slide it mostly out before pressing in with both middle and index. There's a bit of resistance, and I can feel Jason pull in a slightly strained breath, feel the tension slide down his back. I shift just the tips of my fingers inside him, very carefully rocking them in just the tiniest fractions of an inch.

"Easy, kid, try and relax. You're tight as hell."

"You've got thick fucking fingers," he grumbles, shuddering a little bit. "Told you; it's been a _damn_ long time since I had this kind of sex. This _might_ come as a surprise but I don't let just anybody fuck me, they've—"

"Gotta earn it," I finish. "Alright, how about you just follow my lead then?" I pull my fingers out of him and shift my weight off of his back, releasing him from the pin. He starts to turn over as I push my way between his legs, and I grab his hips and pull him up to his hands and knees instead. I can see his head start to twist to look at me, before I duck my head down between his legs and lick a stripe up between his cheeks.

He makes a noise that sounds strangled, and I drag him up a little higher and get to work. I pay careful attention to the twitching outside of the ring of muscle until Jason's every breath is coming as a small gasp, and then finally push my tongue inside of him. The sound that makes it out of his throat is almost loud enough to be called a shout, and it's only the grasp of my hands on his hips that keeps him still for me. I focus on coaxing the loudest noises from his throat, the hardest shudders, while I keep a portion of my attention on monitoring how he's relaxing and opening up.

After a while I wrap my left arm around his waist and lower my right hand — still fairly slick with lube — so I can push one finger in to join my tongue. That I get an actual _whine_ for, and it's a pretty great noise. I coax him open further, and I can feel him winding higher as I work, feel him slowly climbing towards that second orgasm. I consider letting him have it — he's young, chances are good that he can go a third time if I give him some rest between — but ultimately decide not to. So, instead of continuing to play with him, when I get him open enough for two of my fingers and my tongue I pull away. I'm a bit bigger than that circumference, but if he relaxes and I go slow at first he can take it.

Jason's trembling a little bit, his breath coming hard and fast, and he doesn't stop me when I flip him onto his back and press in between his legs. His pupils have swallowed nearly all of the blue of his eyes, and there's an intoxicating flush to his cheeks and down his neck that I can't help staring at for a second. He's arching up even as I look at him, hands twisting into the sheets and his mouth parting on a shaking moan.

I grab the lube, hurriedly slicking my cock with some of it before I raise his hips a touch with one hand and take myself in hand with the other. "Relax for me," I order, as I press the head of my cock against his spit-slick entrance. "I'll be slow, but you gotta relax to let me in."

Jason's head arches back, and then he takes in a deep breath and nods. A moment later he's letting the breath go, _slowly_ , and going all but limp in front of me. I push forward, feeling the slight resistance and rocking past it. In an inch, out half, repeat. It's honestly probably more careful than he actually needs, but it stops him from clenching down around me and he doesn't look like he's in pain, so I decide that it's _just_ careful enough.

" _Fuck_ ," he breathes, when I'm finally seated all the way inside of him. "Forgot— Forgot how that _feels_." He twists against the sheets, clenches down around me, and I bite back a sharp swear at how goddamn _good_ he feels. Hot, tight, and just slick enough to make it work. He groans, thighs pressing in against my hips as he shudders. " _God_ , M, either I've forgotten more than I thought or you're _bigger_ than I was used to."

My mouth cracks in a grin, and I give a strained chuckle. "Some of both, I'd bet. I'm thicker than average; surprises people."

He snorts, and then lowers his head so he can look at me. "Get _down_ here so I can get my nails in your fucking back," he snarls, reaching up for me and just managing to reach my shoulders. I let him pull me down on top of him, pressing my mouth against his shoulders so I'm not tempted to kiss him, as he clutches at my back. It presses his cock between our abs too, and I can feel the wet drag of the tip of it across my stomach. " _Move_ ," he almost begs. "God, _move_."

I obey his demand, giving a testing rock of my hips. His breath catches, but I can move easily enough and I let myself pick up the pace. My hands lock on either side of his waist, dragging him down onto my thrusts as they increase in speed and force. Jason is shaking, and that _passion_ is finally, gloriously, free. He's moving, dragging his hands across my back, meeting my thrusts and letting nothing hold back the sounds I'm driving out of his throat. I keep my mouth busy at his shoulders, sucking little bruises into his skin to add to his collection.

He tastes like sweat, salt, copper, and a hundred other tiny tastes that I categorize and dismiss in an instant. Everything from the ingredients of whatever brand of soap he uses to the aftertaste of his leather jacket where it rubs against his neck. The smell of sex is heavy in the air, and I focus on that and ignore everything else I can smell just like the taste. I focus on the sting of the scratches he's carving into my back, the _feeling_ of him around me, the _sound_ of him moaning and crying out in my ear.

I'm making my own sounds, muffled as they are, until I pull my head up to speak in his ear and fulfill the other part of my promises. "You feel _amazing_ ," I whisper in his ear, and I can feel him jerk. "Tight and hot and _perfect_ around me, like a goddamn dream." He whimpers, nails digging into one spot in my back and not raking down again just yet. "Wish you could feel it with my senses, Jason. Wish you could feel _all_ this with my senses. The way you taste, smell, _sound_ … You're fucking _gorgeous_ , kid. _Incredible_."

" _M_ ," he gasps, arching up against me. " _Shit_ , I'm not gonna— Don't stop, don't _stop_. _God!_ "

"That's right," I praise. "That's good. Come undone for me, Jason. Want to feel you come, feel you clench down around me and come right over your own stomach. Gonna fuck you through it, _keep_ fucking you until I come too and you can _feel_ it mark you up inside, kid." I can feel him coiling tighter, and I pull back so I can lift one hand and shove him flat onto his back, holding him down so I can see his expression and the patterns of bruising over his shoulders and throat. "Come on," I growl. "Let go, kid. _Scream_ for me."

His eyes are wide and wild, and then he's arching against my hold and clawing bloody, ragged lines down my back as he sucks in a deeper breath and obeys. He _screams_ something that sounds like my name, thighs squeezing against my side hard enough to bruise as his cock pulses and spills between us. He's squeezing down around me in waves, and I snarl and keep up my pace. I know I'm rubbing against his prostate, know that's why he stays arched and high for longer than he normally would, know that's why his scream slides into a whine that's _glory_ to my ears. But finally he collapses, shuddering and limp, eyes flickering. His arms slip off my back and to the sheets, thighs loosening and falling open, and I ease my hand off the center of his chest to grab his waist again.

He jolts a bit with every thrust, and I watch him twist against the sheets and whimper. His eyes slide open to find me, and my mouth curls into a grin when I recognize the look in his eyes and the ease to his muscles as _surrender_. The fight's bled out of him, and I give a small laugh and let that fact carry me higher and faster towards the eventual goal of losing my goddamn _mind_.

"You know," I gasp, "you're fucking gorgeous when you're all teeth and challenge, kid, but right now? Right now you're fucking _stunning_." I can feel it rushing towards me, and I bare my teeth and growl down at him. He moans, arching beneath me and twisting his head to the side, baring his throat in something completely instinctive. " _Breathtaking_ ," I whisper, dragging one hand off his waist so I can brace it on the bed next to his head. "Goddamn _beautiful_."

He whines, and I can't hold on to it any longer. I grind out a curse, shoving deep into Jason and letting go with a low moan. Jason's breath catches, and I can feel him clench and squirm in reaction to the feeling of me coming inside him, another small whine escaping his throat. I ride it out, and then hold myself up as the urge to collapse sinks in along with exhaustion. I pant, trying to catch my breath as I slowly pull back out of Jason. It pulls a twitch from my shoulders, and a bigger shudder from Jason. Then I let myself collapse down next to him, stretching out with a satisfied groan.

"That was pretty goddamn _fantastic_ ," I mutter, and I hear Jason give a breathless, soft laugh.

"Yeah," he agrees, his head twisting towards me. "How bad did I get your back?" He's quiet, relaxed, and happy, and that all comes through in his voice. With a small smirk, I flip myself over onto my stomach so he can see. " _Fuck_ ," he whispers, and I can feel the ghost of his fingers down my back.

"It's fine," I say, with a small grin. "I heal fast, remember, kid? They'll be gone before morning, and it's a _tiny_ price to pay for a truly fucking spectacular couple rounds. I barely even feel it." I shift up, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as I slide a hand up to cup his jaw. He melts into the touches with a small sigh of pleasure, a tiny curl at the corners of his mouth that's an actual smile. "Meant what I said, by the way. All that challenge is hot as _fuck_ , but this surrender? It's _beautiful_ , kid."

That smile grows just a little bit, and then he arches his back and lifts his arms, stretching out almost just like I did. " _God_ I needed that," he whispers, and I can hear a few cracks as his spine settles back into place. "It's been a _long_ time since someone—" he cuts off, and I see the sweep of tension down his frame, the way his expression falls out of the easy relaxation.

I give a small sigh, and then push myself up on my arms. "Alright, come on, kid. Let's get you in the shower, hm?"

Jason looks a little bit startled, and blurts out, "Why?"

Instead of being sarcastic and giving him some bullshit answer about getting clean, I gently touch his side and murmur, "Because I saw that, Jason, and I know how it ends. Trust me, you don't want all the evidence still on your skin when this really hits you."

He pushes himself up as well, something just a little defensive in his expression. "It wasn't a _crime_."

"It's going to feel like it was," I tell him bluntly. "Kid, I have _been_ where you are right now. I have _done_ the 'have great sex to feel better' thing. Yeah, it was fucking amazing sex, and you don't owe anyone anything, but does your head know that?" I pause, give him a second to process what I've said, and then point out, "Does your heart?"

His expression falls a little further, and then he shakes his head. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just trust me, okay? Come get clean with me; it'll be easier than waiting." This time he lets me guide him off the bed, though he does wince when he stands up all the way. Without hesitation, I sweep him up into a bridal carry and head off across the room. I can't tell if the little gasp is surprise or some kind of irritation, but he doesn't punch me or otherwise make me let him go so that's good enough. I take him into my bathroom, and then do him the courtesy of turning the water on before I let him down to stand on his own two feet again.

I can see the thoughts starting to weigh him down, and I test the water before I guide him in underneath it. I like my simple pleasures, and I like my company, so my shower's big enough for two men as big as us. Not with the same kind of ease that I get with smaller partners, but there's enough room in here to be comfortable, and for each of us to do our own thing.

He ducks his head in underneath the spray, and I step inside and slide the door of the shower shut behind us. He doesn't stop me when I press up against his back, or when I wrap my arms around him so I can reach past to grab a handful of liquid soap from the bottles in the shelves underneath the showerhead. He gives a soft groan as I rub the soap into his shoulders and down his back, and I take the time to dig my knuckles into any spot that feels like it's holding tension until he's limp putty in my hands.

"Talk to me," I murmur, backtracking to get his neck under my hands too. That's the worst spot of tension. "I'm not your boyfriend, or your family, or some clueless do-gooder therapist who thinks they know something about our lives, I'm just a guy with good hands who can make sure you get put back together no matter how badly you fall apart. Talk to me."

He shudders, and then turns to look at me. I knew it would be there — could hear it in his breath, see it in his body — but the pain in his eyes is raw and agonized, and when I raise my hand to his jaw he leans into it like it's a lifeline. His mouth opens, closes, parts again, and I stay silent and wait for him to decide on his own.

"I—" His voice is rough, and then it cracks when he whispers, "I _love_ him." He shakes, and I can differentiate the glint of tears in his eyes from the water of the shower. "God, I wish I could stop. It would be so much _easier_ if I could stop."

I slide my hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him in against me and wrapping my other arm around his waist. "I know, kid." He shudders, his arms circling my back. "I know. Hurts like a knife in your gut, doesn't it? Feels like all the stitching holding your life together is gone and it's even worse because _you_ tore all of it out." I hold him a little bit tighter, feeling the intermittent shake of his shoulders as he cries. Silent, and in the kind of heart-wrenching pain that I remember from years ago. That I still feel every time I see my first love's face or hear his voice. It's gotten easier, but it never stopped hurting.

"I want you to remember something, Jason." I keep my voice quiet, speak right into his ear so I know he'll hear me over the water. " _You_ chose this. No matter how much it hurts, you have _reasons_ for taking that pain. You can go back, you can stitch your life back together like it's just another wound, but the reasons will _still be there_. Don't try unless you really believe that you can forgive and forget what he did to you; it'll only tear the both of you apart."

"How do I make it _stop?_ " he gasps, and I close my eyes and tilt my head into his.

"You can't, kid. I'm sorry. It'll dull with time, but it never stops hurting. Love doesn't let suckers like us off that easily; we fell for the perfect ones and we pay for it when we leave them." I stroke his back, feeling the curves of scars under my fingertips, up until he shudders and then laughs against my shoulder. It's bitter, self-deprecating, and I recognize both those feelings.

"Street rat fuck-up doesn't get the golden boy," Jason whispers, probably not even intending me to hear but I pick it up anyway.

I press my lips to his throat, shifting us beneath the water of the shower. "Take it one day at a time," I advise, choosing not to answer his comment. "Survive until you remember how to live without him; however long that takes. You're gorgeous, skilled, _dangerous_ , and someday you'll find someone who won't need anything but you. You'll hurt, you'll bleed, maybe you'll go numb to it eventually, and then someone will show up. They'll hold you together, stitch you up, and you'll feel whole again."

His head twists, burying itself against my throat. "Do you?" he asks, with more than a bit of desperation.

I can't bring myself to lie to him, so I take a fraction of a second to put together the right words before I speak. "I did," I tell him, honestly. "Back to that bleeding stage now, but it's not so bad this time. Easier with practice, apparently."

Jason huffs out a laugh that sounds tired, arms tightening around my back. "Survive, huh? I've been pretty bad at that in the past, but I guess I can give it another shot. Maybe the universe won't fuck me over this time around."

"Worth a shot," I agree. "Come on, kid. Let's clean you off and get us both back to a nice, soft bed, huh? There's criminals to beat up in the morning."


	3. Chapter 3

Welcome to chapter three! So, first off, I'm not sticking it in the tags because it's not a main pairing (as far as I've written, anyway), but this chapter does have some references to JayRoy, and some brief interaction between them of that sort. If that changes, and Roy becomes a more important part, I'll add him in there too. Hope you enjoy!

 **Warnings** this chapter for : brief JayRoy interactions, and graphic sex (unrelated to the JayRoy).

* * *

It's nice to wake up with someone else in my bed. There's no slow rise to consciousness for me, no haze to push through, and that almost makes it better.

I open my eyes, completely aware, and find Jason's back pressed to my chest. My head is ducked down against the back of his neck, my right arm is slung over his waist with my palm splayed out across his stomach, and my legs are tangled with his, one thigh pushed right in between his and nearly up against his crotch.

He's still asleep, chest rising in slow, even breaths, and I take the opportunity to just feel him for a second. It's almost like having Apollo in my arms again, except that Apollo was always a blazing source of heat, and Jason actually runs a couple degrees cooler than average. There's the same muscle though; I don't find — or sleep with — many people that are actually taller than me and as built as he is. It'd be a disservice to compare the two of them like that though, so I throw the thought out of my head almost as soon as it appears.

Apollo and Jason are nothing alike, despite that faint physical similarity. I wouldn't want them to be anyway, no one can substitute for another person like that, and especially not for me. Even if I were somehow fooled with physical similarities, my mind would know the difference in behavior, smell, taste, and a hundred other little things. I _know_ people that I get close to too well afterwards to confuse them with anyone else.

I open my eyes, shifting a bit to look down at the little marks I left across his shoulders and neck. It makes me just a bit proud, and I let myself give a small grin as I close my eyes again and enjoy the memories of last night. Which, of course, results in me pressing my pretty swiftly hardening cock up against Jason's low back. He doesn't even stir, so I lower my lips to his neck and press a couple of small kisses to his skin.

Nothing; the kid's dead to the world and that's no surprise. Not after how I satisfied him, and then helped him through his brief breakdown. That kinda night will knock anybody out.

I think about the idea forming in my head for about two seconds before I decide to do it. I carefully shift away from Jason enough that I can roll over and reach for the bottle of lube that got set aside last night on one of my end tables. Then I press back up against Jason's back, and slowly slide my left arm to burrow underneath his waist. It takes a bit of careful maneuvering, but I manage to slick up the fingers of my right hand without making too big a mess and lower them down between his legs.

His heartbeat jumps a bit when I slide one inside of him, but nothing near sudden enough that it would wake him up. I wrap my other hand around his currently limp cock, keeping my touch gentle and basically just holding him in my hand for now.

He's relaxed, still just a touch loose from last night, and I keep the roll of my finger slow and smooth to not wake him up too harshly. He will, eventually, but I'd like it to be a good, slow wake up, not a rush. That means coaxing him open slowly, making sure that the rise to awareness is gradual and hazy. Not something I'm ever going to get to experience, but god if it isn't one of my favorite things to do to a partner. Almost everyone is more relaxed in the morning, and I kind of can't wait to see how Jason is when he eases into pleasure instead of fighting it. Predictions are one thing, the reality is always better.

I close my eyes, tucking my head in against the back of his neck and listening to him as I coax his body open. I can feel how his body heats as his cock swells in my hand, and I carefully add in a second finger when I think he'll accept it. His breathing catches at that, and he shifts, but he doesn't quite wake.

He's lingering closer to the surface now though, his heartbeat a little stronger and his breath coming a little faster. He's making small sounds too, little sighs and rumbles of noise that travel through his chest and into mine. I keep myself from grinding against his back, or biting down into his shoulders, with a whole lot of willpower and not much else.

When I finally slip a third finger in beside the others he shifts, breath catching more noticeably and his back arching just a touch. I can hear how he pulls in a little gasp, feel the change as he slides into consciousness. One of his hands curls into the sheets, head tilting back as he pushes back into my fingers.

"Morning, kid," I murmur against his neck, pressing a soft kiss to the skin in front of my mouth.

His arm rises, groping blindly until it finds my head and then my hair, curling into the bits long enough to actually grip. "Don't make me punch you again," he mumbles, still sounding mostly asleep. "You—" He gasps, lets out a little whine of sound that cuts _straight_ down to my cock. "You wake all your one night stands up like this?"

I scrape my teeth over the back of his neck, and he pushes back into it with a small groan. "I try. I was planning on fucking you, you good with that?"

The laugh that comes out of his chest is breathless, sleepy. "Can't say I'll be all there, but go for it."

I firm up my grip on his cock, giving it an actual stroke. He pushes forward into my hand, breath coming out a sighing moan as he flexes the hand in my hair to pull me closer. I let my head follow his pull, pressing open mouthed kisses down his throat and onto his shoulders before I let go of him. That gets me a small whine, and I smirk, trailing my hand up the center of his chest. I pause at a nipple, rolling it between my fingers, and he gasps and arches, head pressing back against my shoulder as his throat bares.

I hum my approval into his neck, my fingers moving easily inside him as I lightly pinch first one nipple, then the other. "You're so responsive," I whisper into his ear, as his chest pushes forward and into my hand. "Take everything I give you like you just want _more_ and it's goddamn incredible, kid." I catch Jason's earlobe between my teeth, tugging for just a moment — he groans — before sliding my hand back down his chest.

I pull my fingers free, wiping them off on the sheets before reaching back for the bottle of lube. Jason pushes back against me, fingers tugging lightly at my hair, and makes another of those soft little whining noises. I get the lube in my hand, tilting my head down so I can get it on my cock without spilling it everywhere else too. Mostly, I manage it, and then toss the lube back over across the sheets so it's out of the way.

Then I wrap my hand around Jason's upper thigh, pulling his leg back up and over mine and almost swearing at the feeling of my cock nudging up against him. I muffle it by sucking at his throat instead, and then sliding my hand down between us so I can wrap my hand around my cock and guide it.

He moans when I push inside of him, the slide much easier than it was last night since he's a little more loosened up this time. He still feels like fucking heaven though, that hasn't changed even a bit.

I slide my hand back to his thigh, holding his leg up as I rock my hips and push deeper inside. "Still feel fucking amazing," I tell him, remembering his previous reactions to praise and not being at all disappointed when he shudders and clenches around me. "Just relax, kid. Let me do the work."

It's not much like when I fucked him last night.

He's still relaxed from sleep, but freely responsive to every touch. I don't want to jar him out of that, so I keep the roll of my hips slow and sensual, pulling us both towards release in a far more gentle way than the rush for it last night. He's definitely enjoying it, considering the sounds he's making and the way he's moving against me. Those sounds get somewhat louder when I wrap my free hand around his cock again, stroking him in time with the deeper, slow thrusts.

I groan into his shoulder, gritting my teeth together for a moment to hold back. "Meant what I said before; you're _stunning_ when you give in, Jason."

He shivers, but his hand tugs harder at my hair. "Maybe I should make you work harder for it," he teases, and I huff out a laugh into his shoulder.

"Maybe I should stop then," I counter, and he pushes hard back against me with a low snarl.

"Don't you _dare_."

I grin, closing my eyes against his neck and tightening my grip on his thigh to hold him still as I put just a bit more force behind my thrusts. It's not long before he's arching against me, breath coming out in a long groan as he comes over my hand and into the sheets. The clenching of his muscles pushes me that last bit forward too, and I only last another half a minute before following him over the edge. It's not the intensity of last night, but it's still good, and having the kid relaxed and warm in my arms is pretty great.

I press gentle kisses along his shoulders and neck, as his hand eases out of my hair and just strokes idly along the back and side of my neck instead. Eventually I shift to let myself slip out of him — he twitches in discomfort — and raise my head to speak in his ear.

"Hey, we've got criminals to track down, remember? Still want to come along?"

He laughs, and then twists in my arms so he can flip over, facing me. His left arm slides over my waist as he leans in and pulls me into a kiss, and I gladly meet him. It's fairly gentle, but the kid's still got that edge of passion that drives the graze of teeth over my lips and the swipe of tongue. Until he pulls back and then tucks his head down in underneath my chin, nudging his way in like he belongs there. I'm not positive he doesn't.

"Tempting," he murmurs against my collarbone. "You win though, you were right about tiring me out. I'll pass for now."

I smirk, tightening my grip on him just a little bit. "You got it, kid." It's pretty easy to coax him back up into another kiss, before I raise my hand to trace my fingers over his jaw and cheek. "Relax, sleep, whatever you want to do. Make yourself at home; there's a couple robes in the closet if you don't want to actually get dressed. I shouldn't be gone that long."

He hums in something like satisfaction, and then slides his arm back from around my waist. The smirk that curls his mouth, as his blue eyes open, is lazy, warm, and just a bit wicked. "Have fun, _dear_."

My smirk turns into a grin, and I pull him into one last kiss before I force myself away. "I'll dedicate a couple snapped bones to you, _darling_ ," I tease right back, as I roll off the bed and mentally track down each different piece of my suit.

"What a gentleman," Jason says with a laugh, stretching out in the bed. I can hear the crack of his back from here, and the almost silent sigh of satisfaction. "Bring me back a souvenir or something."

I admire his back for a moment — lingering on the line of my sheets low at his hips — and then finally push myself into dressing. "No problem."

* * *

I'm only gone for maybe half an hour, and then I hop a door right back into the middle of my living room. Which smells _distinctly_ like what I think is the mix of an omelet, among other things, and I tilt my head and order the door closed again, looking in the direction of my kitchen.

Jason is standing in front of my stove, turning things in at least two separate pans, and my mouth curls in a smile when I see the dark, silk robe he's got tied on. I trudge that direction, and he tilts his head back a bit when I'm maybe halfway towards him.

"You eat normal portions?" he asks bluntly.

"Yeah," I answer, tugging my mask off with my free hand and lifting the other to set his souvenir—

" _Not_ on the table," comes the sharp order, and I raise my gaze to the center of Jason's back. "I'm at least going to eat there, even if you aren't. Coffee?"

"Just water." I drop his souvenir off to the side instead, letting it clank to the floor. "Lemme rinse off; I'll be right back."

He doesn't stop me from detouring off to my room, where I get in the shower and only _then_ start to strip down. Short mission but a bloody one, and I have learned my lesson about dropping my bloody suit anywhere but in my shower or bathtub. It never ends well, and I think the cleaning service I door in when I do that is getting a little sick of me.

I make sure I'm all clean before dropping the pieces of my suit into the bathtub to let them dry, make sure I'm suitably dry, and then head out for my closet. I grab one of my other robes — silk's one of the few fabrics that doesn't grate on my skin at least a little — and throw it on before I head back out to the kitchen. Jason's portioning things out onto plates, and I don't waste any time coming right up behind and sliding my hands around his waist. He's freshly showered too; his hair's still damp and I can smell my soap on his skin.

"Got you a souvenir," I murmur in his ear, and his head turns.

"Yeah?" I nod towards where I dropped it, and I get to watch his eyes light up. "What is _that?_ "

I grin. "That's a hefty piece of some very advanced alien tech; I hear that redhead teammate of yours is a bit of a genius with machines. I mean, it's just a gun right now, but I bet he could reverse engineer it."

I can almost see how he's itching to get his hands on it, but he only grins and leans back into me, turning and catching my mouth in a kiss. "Thanks," he whispers, and then nudges me with his shoulder. "There's food; omelets and bacon. Would have done something fancier but you're a little lacking on ingredients."

Another little piece of the puzzle that is Jason slots into place, and I look over his shoulder as I confirm, "You cook?"

He hums in confirmation, and then adds, "Since I was a kid. Am I still surprising you?"

"Only in the best of ways," I assure him, and only then let go. "My plate?" He hands me one, and I steal another kiss before I head for the kitchen table. He follows a moment later, balancing a plate, a mug — coffee, I can smell it — and a glass of water. I take the water from him, leaving him free to set those down at his own place and then briefly backtrack for utensils.

When he hands me my fork I catch his wrist, pulling it forward so I can press a kiss to his knuckles. The little flicker of a smile I get is beautiful all on its own, so I do it again before I let go. He shakes his head, rolls his eyes, but there's a softness to his gaze that makes it all for show.

"So who were you tracking down?" Jason asks, as he sits down. "Looked like quite a fight."

"Nah," I say with a small grin. "Just a bunch of weapons traffickers with things a little too advanced for them. One of them was stupid enough to try and use a katana on me, so I took it. Bloody, but not really a fight."

"Sounds like I would have been bored even if I went," he says with a smirk, as I take my first bite of the omelet. Which might be one of the better things I've eaten this month, fancy restaurants included.

"Well, I'm definitely not going to complain that you stayed behind and cooked breakfast," I tease, "but I'm still looking forward to getting to see how dangerous you can be. This is _great_ , by the way."

Another smile, this one lingering a little longer. "I learned from a master. His pancakes are awful but everything else he made was absolutely incredible. Can you not cook?"

"I can I suppose, just never tried anything more complicated than the basics. Usually I've got other things to do, and eating's kind of an afterthought."

"Heathen," he jabs, but he's grinning. "Swear the rest of you would live off packaged dinners and snack foods if someone didn't stop you. What do you all find so exhausting about making your own food?"

I push a piece of bacon in my mouth, since it's clear that he's not actually looking for an answer, and study him for a couple moments. "You know," I comment, once I've swallowed, "you're very domestic." One of his eyebrows rises. "It's a compliment. You cook, and I noticed you cleaned up too. Changed the sheets, right? I'm not sure my bed's ever been that nicely made."

He shrugs, gaze falling to the last bits of his food. "It's habit," is his easy answer, and everything I get off of him in that moment says that there's a little more to it, but I probably shouldn't push. It's almost surprising when he raises his head again and expands, "My life's been… Chaos, basically. I'm more comfortable when the things around me are where they should be, and I know where everything is." Then his mouth curls in a little smirk. "And I just happen to like to cook; no secret there."

I meet his smirk. "Hey, I'm not complaining. Clean all you want; place could probably use it, honestly."

"Just a little."

He finishes off his food, leaning back in his chair and reaching for the mug of coffee to curl both hands around it. I let him study me as I finish eating, vaguely wondering what he's looking for but not really invested enough to actually ask. For the most part, Jason seems to speak his mind. Until he feels like sharing whatever he's thinking about, I'll let him watch me as much as he wants to. There's no danger in it, and sometimes people like to be left to puzzle their own thoughts out. I don't have enough information on Jason's thought processes to honestly say he'd prefer if I asked, so I won't.

Once I finish he gets up, wordlessly collecting the empty dishes and ferrying them to the sink. After a moment I follow, pressing myself up against his back and sliding my arms around his waist. He leans back a little bit, and I press my mouth to the side of his neck, over one of the dozen little marks I left there last night. That gets me a faint shiver, and I smirk against his skin but resist lowering my hand to slip under the robe.

"So," Jason breaks the silence with, "we should probably talk."

"Do you want me to let go?" I ask, as he sets the last dish aside to dry. "Or to sit down?"

He turns in my arms, putting his back to the counter and looping his arms around my shoulders. "No; stay here." He holds my gaze for a couple seconds before speaking again. "This… This doesn't feel no-strings-attached. I mean, if that's just me I get it, no offense taken. Hell, maybe I'm rebounding and—"

I kiss him, raising a hand so I can tunnel it through his hair and pull him in against me. He makes a surprised noise, but then his hands are cupping the back of my neck and skull and pulling me in just as hard. I press him back against the counter a little harder, pushing my tongue in between his teeth until he gives a soft, muffled moan and relaxes. Then I pull back, letting the kiss linger for just a moment before opening my eyes to find and meet his gaze.

"It's not just you," I tell him, with a smirk. "I like you, kid, and not just because you give fucking amazing blowjobs."

He snorts, gives a little shrug. "Maybe you're rebounding too."

"So what?" I ask. "We'd both be pretty fucking crazy to commit to anything after one night, so why make it complicated?" I kiss him again, softer, slower. "My door's open, kid, whether you want to fight, or fuck, or just sleep in my bed and make breakfast. Or all of the above; that could be a fun night."

He relaxes a little more, fingers trailing over my scalp as he smirks. "So no expectations? I can be what, your booty call?"

I give a burst of laughter, my mouth curling into a grin. "Kid, I'm pretty sure I just signed up to be _yours_."

His eyes shut as he laughs, head bowing forward to rest his forehead against mine. "You're unbelievable," he whispers. "Alright, deal. But, maybe next time you've got some job to do, give me a call? I can, you know, stand around and look pretty or something."

"What an honor," I tease, and Jason tugs lightly at my hair as he gives a small growl. I growl back, just to hear that little gasp of breath, and then open my eyes and pull back a touch. "Sounds like a plan. That _does_ mean I'll need your number though."

Jason opens his eyes to look at me, a tiny smile on his face. "Fast moves there. Alright, then I guess I'll need my phone." His smile falls away, and then he exhales almost loudly enough to be a sigh. "And, I should go. I've got cases waiting for me—"

"Or," I interrupt, "you could stay." He blinks, looking a little startled. "I haven't thanked you for breakfast yet," I murmur, pressing close, "and I don't think I've _nearly_ had enough of you yet, Jason. Haven't had the chance to…" I lower my head to his neck, pulling some of the skin right below the corner of his jaw between my teeth for a moment with a low, satisfied hum. The way he inhales is just a little shaky. "Take my time with you."

"Oh yeah?" he breathes. "I think I can get behind that. I mean, those scratches on your back are all gone, right? I should give you some more."

I roll my hips into his, tightening my grip on his waist, and get a small groan in return. "How about I start with a little gratitude?"

I let go of him, sliding down to my knees, and he sucks in a sharp breath. I grin, slide my hands up the inside of his thighs, and lean in.

* * *

Midnighter's hands curl in my jacket, pulling me in for a hard kiss against my already kind of bruised lips. I still give a small gasp at the touch, and that's all it takes for one of his thick arms to let go and curl around my waist, dragging me up against him too.

I shudder, grabbing almost uselessly at his sides. " _M_ ," I breathe, pulling my mouth away from his and arching my neck back. It just means his mouth drops to my throat instead. "Jesus, M, _no_. I— I can't. I need to go home. I need—" A laugh bursts out of my throat, and I bend my head down and press it against his shoulder. "I need a _break_. I could sleep for a fucking week."

"I'd _like_ to get you back before it's been a week," Midnighter says, with that satisfied, teasing edge to his voice. He does pull away though, even though he's smirking. "Alright, Cinderella. Go get home before midnight."

"Jackass," I shoot back, without any real heat. He leans down, hefting the fairly solid hunk of tech that's my 'souvenir,' and I murmur a, "Thanks," when he hands it to me. Heavy, but nothing I can't handle.

"I'll call you when I find a job," he promises. "If you want my help—"

"I'll ask," I finish, and match his smirk. "Thanks for the good time, M."

"My pleasure." His voice is rough and low, and _god_ but it makes me shiver again even though I know there's no way I can go another round without some solid sleep. "Door."

The orange portal springs to life to my right, and he extends a hand with a half bow. I snort, shake my head, and walk through. It turns my gut a bit, makes me suck in a sharp breath, but I have dealt with nastier feelings before and it's only momentary. I swallow away the feeling, taking a look around and making sure that I'm back home where I should be. Or, as close to home as I've got.

The warehouse turned apartment that I'm sharing with Roy, that's half his workshop and half an actual living space.

I take a moment to breathe, hearing the door close behind me about half a second before some kind of warbling alarm goes off. I roll my head back, flicking my eyes towards the ceiling in hopeless prayer as I wait for whatever kind of security system Roy's got active to decide whether or not I'm a threat.

Luckily, it only gets as far as me hearing something electrical start to wind up before there's a shout of, "Shit, no! Command: echo-three! Shut down!"

I raise an eyebrow, watching Roy skid into view from the direction of the bathroom. His jeans are still undone, he's barefoot, there are what look like black soot marks on his tank-top, and his hair is in one of its messy, twisted ponytail loops that I always just want to _pull_ at. He's been working, clearly. Usually when Roy gets into a groove he tends to forget about the world until it's over, including his own personal health. Hopefully, he's actually eaten something today.

His face lights up when he sees me, and he grins wide and happy and hurries over. "Jaybird! You're back!"

"Got you a gift," I start with, holding up the alien gun. "Don't blow anything up we can't replace, hm?"

Roy takes the gun, bare arms tightening at the weight and I definitely waste a second appreciating the curves of his biceps as he spins the tech to look at it. "Oh _cool_. Thanks, Jaybird; this is awesome."

He immediately detours towards his workshop benches, setting the gun down on a mostly clear spot. He looks like he's itching to dig into it, but he turns right back around and comes back to me instead. I lean forward as he reaches up, hands cupping my cheeks as he pulls me into a brief kiss.

"Welcome home," he says with a smile, and I smile back.

"Your zipper's undone," I point out, and he glances down before breaking out into another grin.

"You like it better that way anyway." He pulls me into a deeper kiss, one arm sliding around my shoulders, and I make a faint protesting noise.

"Roy," I murmur, when he pulls back, "no. I'm _so_ tired; I just want to sleep."

He leans in, kisses me more shallowly. "Totally fair. You want some company?"

"I would love some company." I might be _tired_ , sore, and definitely not ready to have any sex, but I will never turn down having Roy next to me in a bed. Or next to me at all.

I never did bring up the whole idea of _exclusivity_ with Midnighter, but we did agree to no expectations or commitment. Yet. Roy's my best friend and more; he helped me get through everything with Dick, and kept me steady when I honestly probably would have fallen apart on my own. I don't feel like giving that up just because Midnighter is… Well, fucking incredible. And incredible at fucking. _Jesus_ , I don't think I've ever had better sex in my life.

Roy huffs out a soft laugh, and I can feel his fingers comb through my hair, along my scalp. "Jaybird, baby, you're _blissed out_. Who the hell have you been fucking? Because I think I want a piece or two of that."

I laugh, content to let Roy run his fingers through my hair and feel him close. "You ever met Midnighter?"

"Heard of; haven't met."

"Well, I spent last night and all of today at his apartment."

Roy whistles, and then slowly tugs me forward and starts to steer me across the room. "That good then, huh? You fuck him, or…?"

I shake my head, letting Roy lead me in the direction of our beds; probably mine because it's just a little bigger. "No; he earned it and everything. Several times. You should see my shoulders, man."

"Describe him?"

I hum assent as Roy gets me into the sectioned off piece of warehouse that serves as my room, starting to work my gear off of me with sure, practiced hands. First the jacket, then my gloves, belt, and so on.

"About your height. Built like— like fucking _Bruce_ though. Big, thick, muscled as all hell. Undercut, reddish brown hair, light brown eyes, bit of stubble." I groan at the memory, tilting my head back as Roy pulls the zipper on my armor down. "Voice is all low and dark and gravelly, but that kind of smug and satisfied gravel, not Bruce's grumpiness. _Strong_ ; enhanced strength, reflexes, healing, the works. And get this: he likes a _fight_."

"Sounds like _just_ your kind of guy," Roy says with a grin, as he pushes my armor off my shoulders. "Oh _wow_ , you were not kidding. _Boy_ , did he take his teeth to you. Nails too; nice scratches you got on your back there. You're alright, right?"

I give a small laugh, and reach out to catch Roy's arm and pull him in against me. Just so I can loosely wrap my arms around his waist and tilt my head down against his neck. "Yeah, Roy, I'm _so_ good. I think the words you used were 'blissed out.' I need to crash though; I'm kind of fucking exhausted."

"Jesus," Roy says, pulling me in the direction of the bed. "How many times did you guys go, Jason? I mean, we've fucked all day before but I don't think I've ever seen you quite like this."

He pushes me down, sets to work on getting my boots off. I close my eyes, tilting my head into the sheets and relaxing. "Are we using breaks between or orgasms to count?" I tease, and Roy smacks the inside of my calf.

"Either way I think I'm going to call it _a lot_. Alright, Jaybird, you just relax and pass out, and I'll get you stripped down and see about counting all those hickeys on your neck. Deal?"

I sigh, satisfaction still humming in my veins. "Deal," I murmur.


End file.
